


Mr. In-Between

by Pares (kormantic)



Category: due South
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Matchmaking, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-21
Updated: 2003-06-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9263699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormantic/pseuds/Pares
Summary: Ray Vecchio, twice a day: eight things that did and didn't happen.





	

**1) 6:57 AM**

Stella was drying her hair. While she tipped her head and switched the heat to high, Ray sat on the bed and reached out to take the hem of her knee-length camel skirt between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed the fabric meditatively.

And she flipped the hair dryer off, her eyes silvery and annoyed, but her mouth soft and slightly open.

"Stop that," she said, but there was a distinct lack of conviction in her tone. Then she frowned at herself in the bureau mirror and turned around.

She sat down gingerly beside him.

"It's--" She paused, and a flash of guilt lined her forehead. "It's just that. Ray used to do that," she said softly.

Ray stared at his shoes, let his hands fall between his knees. After a moment he turned his head, gave her a slow smile.

"S'only natural. I love your skirts. Love seeing your legs go... all the way up." He mimicked his hand gliding up her thigh and she bit her lip and glanced away.

"Hey. Stella. Honey. Come on. It used to feel good and now it shouldn't any more? Where's that lawyer logic at? He used to kiss you, didn't he? And so I should stop doing that, too?"

Stella met his eyes and he slid his hand under the still-damp curtain of hair at the back of her neck, still hot to the touch from the dryer.

She shivered.

"Ray... I've got work..."

"Shhhh. Nobody has to know." He set a hand on her hip and tugged. She swallowed and nodded, her eyes getting that intense, hot blue that meant she was ready to go. He undid his pants and tugged them down so the zipper wouldn't bite her. She knelt up on the bed, taller than he was now, still wearing her sleek black heels.

He set his hands at her waist and pushed his tongue past the buttons of her shirt to touch her skin. Her breathing was slow and deep, and he felt her tremble as he hitched her skirt up. She had on silk thigh highs in some kind of light beigey color. 'Riviera nude', according to the packaging they came in. She kept unopened cellophane envelopes full of them stashed in her slim briefcase, so she'd never get caught with a run.

No garter belt, just the ones held up with lacy elastic, the kind he loved to smooth down her blonde legs in a roll, like some kind of weird, sexy donut.

Not for love or money would he ever tell her his ex-wife used to wear them, too.

Her panties were champagne colored satin, and he nuzzled at them until she swung her leg over both of his, a standing straddle, her soft belly hot under her slippery silk shirt. He licked his thumb and nudged the panties out of the way to slip into the warm heart of her. He pet her with his wet fingertip, spread her slick heat around, and she shuddered, her breath catching.

She was staring down at him, her cheeks flushed, and he reached up to bring her mouth to his, and he held her underwear out of the way while she sank down on him, already so wet, her kisses strong and sweet as black sugared coffee.

He broke away to move, murmured her name against her throat, and she sighed, her head falling back as she rocked against him.

He felt her tense, her knees digging into his hips, and she gave a funny little hiccup and then she muttered his name like it was some sexy, dirty word and he came.

They stayed that way a minute or two, just breathing softly against one another, Ray's hands sliding up from her hips to mold against her shoulder blades, pressing her chest into his.

He took a deep breath and kissed her neck.

"Marry me."

She went very still.

"I'm sorry?"

"Marry me, Stella."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, arching a brow.

"You just want me to be late to work."

"I want you to marry me. " He rocked her closer, still softing off inside her. The action made her bite her soft lower lip, and he had to smile. " _And_ I want you to be late to work."

He caught the surreptitious glance at her slim gold watch.

Finally she said, "How late?"

And Ray laughed.

~~~

**2) 6:57 PM**

"Raymond," said Frannie warmly, as Ray dropped his keys on the table by the front door.

It made him instantly wary.

"What?"

"What." Frannie threw up her hands. "Can't a girl say hello to her brother after a long day at work?" The sugar sweetness had a tart edge now.

"She can if she doesn't have any ulterior motives."

Frannie got that little line between her eyebrows for a second before she remembered that she was trying to be sweet.

"Ray, my dear brother, why don't you relax. I'll heat you up some ziti, and we can have a nice dinner."

"Why? Frannie, I swear to you, I'm not in any mood for this. Just tell me what you want and I'll say no now, and save us both some trouble."

"God, Ray! You don't even know what it is yet!"

"Yeah, but I know that I don't wanna do it."

He sat down heavily at the dining room table.

"Oh, like I'm constantly asking you to do me favors or something. Gimme a break, Ray."

Running a weary hand over his shorn head, he sighed and looked his sister in the eye.

"Okay, Frannie. Fair enough. What is it?"

She smiled instantly, and dragged the nearest dining chair close before sitting down and leaning forward in that weird little girl way she had. Sheesh. His kid sister was 30 now, and she was still using the same ploys she'd worked out when she was nine.

"Well, tomorrow is the Sallie Hanover Beauty Bowl, and I could get lots of new customers if I win it. And to win it, I need to test out all the latest products and--"

"Whoa. Wait a minute. I see where this is going. What about ma? Maria? Little Donna's already wearing makeup--"

"But Ray! A lot of these new products are aimed at men, and besides you know Ma's with Maria and the kids at Vinnie's graduation. Come on. Help me out."

"No way."

"Come on. Don't be a baby."

"No means no, Frannie. It's a word you should learn. Look it up in the dictionary. Here's how you spell it: N-O."

"Ray," and little Frannie was actually gritting her teeth and growling at him. "Don't make me tell ma about your stash of Playboys."

"How the hell--?! Oh, so you're resorting to blackmail now?"

She crossed her arms against her chest and regarded him coolly.

"A _real_ brother would have just said, 'Yeah, sure, Frannie, whatever I can do for my darling sister.'"

Ray snorted.

"You're a riot, you know that?"

But despite himself he felt guilty and he heard himself saying, "Okay, Frannie. You win. But I'm drawin' the line at hot wax!"

She clapped twice, and hopped up again.

"You go sit on the recliner inside, and I'll be right out."

"Fine, fine, whatever."

"Jeez, Ray, I'm not going to _hurt_ you. In fact, you might even like it."

"Yeah, well, we'll see, okay?"

"And take your shoes and socks off."

"I'm not stripping down for you, Frannie!"

"Just your socks! As if I'd want to see you naked. I'd have to poke my own eyes out like that Oedipal guy."

Frannie's night school courses had been paying off, Ray could tell.

Grumbling to himself, Ray toed off his shoes and balled his socks up inside them.

In a minute or two, Frannie had returned with the little plastic foot tub Ray had gotten Ma for her birthday last year, some towels, and a box of little ceramic jars that that tinkled ominously as Frannie set them on the end table.

She also had some terry mittens and a cucumber.

"I thought you said you'd heat me up some ziti?"

"Don't you know _anything_?" Frannie cut a few slices from the cucumber and Ray heard the microwave ding and she trotted back into the kitchen.

She returned with another towel.

"Now, just lay back and relax, Ray. And shut up while you're at it."

"I should do favors for you more often. You could give the Mountie lessons in gracious."

She glared at him warningly and Ray relented, settling back in the comfortable grip of the leather La-Z-Boy and closing his eyes.

He was startled when he felt the hot towel against his cheeks, but Frannie made a clucking noise and he let her fuss.

"This is a soothing hot towel. It'll relax you and help ready your skin so we can maximize the effectiveness of the Pore Cream," and Ray could tell she was reciting this spiel from memory. It was her Gerardi's Counter Girl voice.

After a few moments, Ray was ready to admit it was relaxing, but he didn't want to give Frannie the satisfaction.

When Frannie retrieved the towel, Ray almost missed it.

As soon as it was off his face, Frannie set to slathering some kind of chilly goo on his cheeks and nose. By the time she'd smoothed it onto his forehead, he felt cool and slightly tingly. The goo tasted like Halls cough drops.

"What is this stuff?"

"It's Gerardi's pore refining cream. It'll firm and tone and leave your skin feeling fresh and youthful."

"I don't _want_ to feel fresh and youthful. I'm a guy!"

"Ray, you already agreed to do this, so just quit your whining. And give me your hands."

"Are you going to make them fresh and youthful, too?"

"I'll give you fresh and youthful, smart guy. You want Ma to find out about the tapes in your VCR, too?"

"You play hardball. Fine." He stuck out one hand. "Make me beautiful."

Frannie laughed at that, her brown eyes twinkling.

"You're my brother, and I love you, when you're not being a jerk," she clarified, "but beautiful you're not."

"You keep this up, I'm gonna let ma know about you and Joey Delioni."

She took his hand and jabbed his cuticle with the orange stick.

"You wouldn't!"

"Hey, you play with fire, you're gonna get burned, sister. Just come on. Let's hurry up. I'm beat."

And Frannie gave him a glance that hinted at sympathy before she was reciting the virtues of the latest whatever it was and carefully trimming Ray's nails.

After a while, even she seemed bored with the shoptalk and asked, "So, rough day today?" She was tugging the mittens on over his heavily creamed hands.

"Nah. Not too bad. Just... long. Fraser was at some consulate thing, and--" He clammed up.

And I missed him, thought Ray. And I thought about why I missed him. And I came to some pretty weird conclusions.

Conclusions that no stash of Playboys could erase.

"Was there dancing? Did he wear the gloves?" There was no disguising the eagerness in her voice.

Ray sighed.

"How the hell should I know? What, I got x-ray telescopic vision now? I told you, he was at the consulate. I didn't see him."

"Take it easy, sheesh. Ask a simple question."

Ray grumbled a little more, re-settling in the chair. He closed his eyes, listening to Frannie whisper her sales pitch to herself, and eventually fell asleep.

When he woke up again, Frannie was holding out the phone, saying, "It's Benton for you, Ray."

~~~

"Great. This is just _great_. These are Florsheim, Fraser. These are quality shoes. And now, they're all... slimy."

"Go ahead and remove them, Ray. I'm sure Mr. Boomhaur would lend you some socks, and perhaps I can shine away the worst of the... fluid."

Ray sat down and leaned over to untie the wet, swollen knots of the second pair of shoes this month he'd sacrificed to the Mountie's idea of pursuit.

"No more sewers, Fraser. I mean it. These are the last shoes I'm gonna lose to whatever crud is floating around down there--"

He rested his ankle on his knee and stripped off his wet, wadded sock, all the while glaring at Fraser accusingly. He did the same to the other sock and then Fraser said,

"Ray..."

Fraser merely stared. Didn't so much stare as study Ray's feet with an attitude of interest and surprise.

Ray followed the Mountie's gaze to his own hot pink toenails.

"I am gonna _kill_ Frannie. Then I'm gonna get the EMT's out to bring her back so's I can kill her again."

"Ray," Fraser admonished.

"Look, she musta done it while I was asleep."

"Ah. I was thinking that perhaps... you were getting in touch with your 'feminine side', as it were."

From anyone else, that would have been a joke, but Ray could only hear the Mountie's quiet sincerity... and possibly, his approval.

"You think my toenails-- you like it?"

"Well, I'm not sure that 'Cherry Bliss' is your color, Ray..."

Ray squinted at Fraser.

"How do you know it's 'Cherry Bliss'?"

"How would you know it's not?" And Fraser sounded almost... defensive.

"Fannie's always got bottles laying around..."

"Well then. There you are."

And the subject was dropped.

Until Fraser brought it up again in the Riv on the way home.

"But you do have a manicure. And a taste for fine apparel. Grooming is very important to you. And I've had occasion to note that your skin is rather unusually soft. Do you use special soaps in your ablutions?"

"What are you talking about?! Frannie was doing this-- look, I was just being a good brother. And wahttaya mean do I use special soaps? I've been using Irish Spring for 20 years. Hell, I wash my hair with it."

"Hm."

"Hm what?" Ray asked dangerously.

"Do you think the harsh pH of a deodorant soap might have had anything to do with your hair-- Ah." And Fraser shut his mouth with an almost audible snap.

"Look, I got it on good authority that hair loss is related to a _manly_ surge of _testosterone_... something like that. So. You can just shut your yap about my soft girly skin."

Fraser studied him closely, and then leaned closer, and then closer still... in fact he leaned forward and nearly grazed Ray's cheek with his nose, as he sniffed lightly at Ray's sideburn.

"Hmm. Irish Spring. So it is. Although your hair does smell of... rosemary and ginseng."

Ray felt his cheeks get hot, and he clenched the wheel tightly.

"Yeah, well, I ran out of Suave and I had to use some of Frannie's. Sheesh."

"But I thought you used Irish-"

Ray worked up a glare and the Mountie bought a clue.

"Understood."

"So, you hungry? I could go for some Li Ho's."

"That would be quite enjoyable."

Dief yipped. Apparently he could read lips, backwards, in the rearview mirror.

"Dief agrees," Fraser interpreted, but Ray was learning wolf, too.

~~~

**3) 8:33 AM**

They knock over a half-empty box and there's a little tinkle of broken water glasses, but they both ignore it.

His hand curls past the waist of Kowalski's boxers, and the guy _flexes_ , and raps the back of his head against the wall.

"Fffffuuuck," he mutters, clenching his teeth.

Vecchio grins a little, liking the way Kowalski's eyes get all heavy lidded when he's turned on.

"Listen to you." He jacks him carefully. Too soft and too slow. Kowalski grips Ray's wrist and tries to hurry him along, but he isn't gonna rush this. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Kowalski's eyes slip all the way shut and he smiles back, shiny teeth, mouth hanging open a little, hinting at tongue.

"I suck your _cock_ with this mouth, Vecchio. What about it?"

Chuckle from Vecchio.

"You makin' an offer?"

"Me? Why don't you get your knees dirty, Vecchio?"

Squinting at him from under golden lashes and Vecchio stops jerking him.

"Kick out of your pants."

Kowalski does and Vecchio nods, holds his hand up. "Get it wet." Kowalski, grinning now, sticks his tongue out, obscenely long and pink, laps a long wet stripe from the heel of Vecchio's hand to the tip of his middle finger. Then does it again, slower still.

Vecchio gets down on one knee, doubles the jeans, kneels down, elbows a box of CD's, cases clacking. Goes down on Kowalski's cock, working the shaft with his wet hand. Not wet enough.

Kowalski doesn't seem to care.

Kowalski stutters, mutters, and before he shoots, Ray pulls off. Then stares down at his chest, shakes his head.

"Christ, would you look at that?" He sounds more than annoyed. "You came on my goddamned new tie." He loosens it, gets to his feet, Kowalski's laughing at him.

Vecchio strips the tie from around his neck, holds it up so Kowalski can see it. Kowalski cocks his head.

"Kinda girly."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's pink."

"It's mauve."

"It's _pink_."

"It went with the suit," Vecchio growls.

"You want I should clean it up?" He smirks with his whole body and licks the tie. Ray flashes a look of disgust, then tucks the tie in Ray's mouth, wraps it loosely once, twice around Ray's head.

"That's real pretty. Maybe I'll fuck you just like that, shut you up."

Kowalski spits out the silk, and the tie shimmies down to loop across his neck.

"Then you couldn't kiss me while you come."

Ray smiles, leans in, licks Ray's lower lip. They stumble for the bed.

The new apartment must have been painted right before Ray had moved in the weekend before, white, white, astonishingly white, the sun spills in the open windows like a photographer's flash that never stops, making Vecchio's white shirt gleam. He unbuttons it but never takes it off, pushes up Ray's skin-tight wifebeater, leans down to lick along Ray's rib.

It's 8:33 in the morning.

"I hardly ever get to fuck you while it's light outside."

"I learn new stuff about your perverted tendencies every day."

The open shirt hangs down, like a translucent wing of porcelain, or a pure white lampshade, holding the sun. It makes Ray Kowalski almost gold, and makes Vecchio's olive skin look darker than it really is. He unbuckles his belt and Kowalski draws up one leg with a lazy grin.

"You ready for me?" Slide of the bedside drawer.

"Always ready," Kowalski answers and he tosses his head when Vecchio goes in with cold, wet fingers. Holds very still when Ray slips his fingers out and steadies himself with one hand against Ray's hip.

Glide in and a low grunt from Vecchio, free hand smoothing and smoothing Kowalski's belly. Kowalski's hair is almost white in the pure light of a spring morning. The window's open just a crack and Kowalski's furled mini blinds rap against the window as Ray leans in to kiss Kowalski and Kowalski gives him a feral smile and makes as if to bite Vecchio's chin, his teeth snapping against air.

Vecchio starts to move in earnest and Kowalski starts to squirm, hands groping blindly at pillows, at the headboard, his upper body arching now as Ray Vecchio bends over to kiss him, his rhythm deep and slow and steady.

"You think your Mountie... could ever do this for you? Think so? Huh?"

"You fucker--"

"Only me, that's right, say it, Kowalksi--"

"I'm fucking climbing the walls-- Vecchio--" breathless ranting now, Vecchio laughing a little saying, "You are one hot fuck, Kowalski." And then the deep and hungry kiss, Kowalski too desperate to make it nasty, Ray too focused to stop, his rhythm building, cresting, Kowalski folds one hand against the back of Vecchio's neck and Vecchio finds his free hand fumbling with a pillow case and links their fingers, they're rocking together now--

"--come on, baby--"

"--shut the fuck up and kiss me--"

Ray lets go of Kowalski's hip and rests his weight on one hand set beside Kowalski's head, three, four heaving strokes, hard upward thrusts and he loses it, licking at Kowalski's open, gasping mouth.

Kowalski just grins as Ray slacks down on him, chest heaving.

"My turn," he murmurs. And Ray rolls off of him face up, squinting, then rolls over again, and Kowalski tugs his pants all the way down, stripping off his socks.

"Gonna bite the pillow for me, Vecchio?"

And Ray's got his face buried in the skinny white pillows at the head of Kowalski's bed, and Ray doesn't finger fuck him first, just lubes up and pushes in, making Vecchio groan --son of a bitch-- and shake as Ray drives into him, hard.

"Love the way you get, love this--" Kowalski chants, and Ray only answers in wordless moans.

~~~

**4) 8:33 PM**

When they broke up, she'd gotten the apartment.

The sorriest fucking day of his life was showing up back home with all his shit in three leather cases and the trunk of his car. Maria was almost scary quiet, and Frannie, she couldn't shut up, going on and on about how she'd redecorate his room, how Ma was glad to have a man back in the house again, since it was before Maria had finally married Tony.

Home three months now, and he hadn't gotten laid since... jeeze, right after Ange. That blowsy old bar fly. Sad eyes, bad dye job...

He refused her offer to blow him in his car, preferring the cluttered utility of her shabby little apartment.

He'd fucked her up against the wall with his eyes closed, his mouth full of the sharp reek of her cheap perfume.

He'd felt so goddamned _bad_ about it after, but what could he do? Leaving a fifty on the kitchen counter would have only made it worse.

Then driving around all night, hurting like he'd lost an arm or something. Like when he was a kid and Zuko had kicked him in the jaw after he'd fallen during dodge ball. He'd lost a baby tooth near the front, and the space there had bothered him. He'd keep forgetting it was there and then... find it again.

That was what it was like to miss Ange and then remember she'd walked out on him.

~~~

**5) 9:57 AM**

Ray Vecchio had walked in on a few hasty button-ups in his time. The hurry-up-and-zip-goddammit, a hand dragged across a wet mouth, it was nothing new. He'd busted his share of creeps, and odds were, you caught 'em with their pants down, one way or the other.

But he'd never seen anything like this.

Kowalski, rail skinny and shaking and straining like he was gonna die.

And behind him, Fraser's shoulders, white as mountaintops, heaving with every giant breath, one pretty hand stroking Kowalski's bared throat, the other one... jerking Kowalski off with the kind of concentration only Fraser could have brought to something like that.

For a long moment, they didn't notice him, Kowalski with his eyes screwed shut, bucking as he straddled Fraser's splayed knees, and Fraser, rubbing his mouth against the bony rick of Kowalski's shoulder.

Then Kowalski pried one eye open and scrambled out of Fraser's lap. He was naked. Really, really naked, and pretty damned proud about it, to look at him.

But a naked guy oughta be jumping into his pants, not spoiling for a fight.

Kowalski's face was red and shiny, and he glittered at Ray, baring his teeth in a tough little grin and wagging his head like he was shaking blood out of his eyes and out looking for more.

This was... something Ray had never dreamed he'd walk in on. Not in Fraser's house. Hell, not in anybody's house.

Before he knew it he'd actually taken a few steps back; Kowalski made a pretty convincing threat, even in the buff.

He held his hands up, then remembered to be angry. Hell, _outraged_. That skinny little bag lady, getting Benny to... And Benny was...

What the _fuck_ was going on?

Ray had had enough of the skin show to last him the rest of his life. He slammed the door on his way out, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out Kowalski's nasty little chuckle.

He heard the door open and shut behind him and he just lowered his head and dogged it for the lobby, which is where Kowalski finally caught up with him.

Still naked.

He shook the guy's hand off and stared him down.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Kowalski?"

"If you give him shit, I will give _you_ shit. Hell, I'll _bury_ you in it. I fuckin' love that guy, and you got no right to fuck with that."

" _Everybody_ falls in love with the Mountie," Ray's heavy finger thunked against Kowalski's chest with every word. Ray threw his hands up. "That's what he's there for!"

"He's not a flag in a hat, Vecchio. He's a guy. A person. Don't you _get_ it?"

"I don't think _you_ do. Where the hell d'you get off, touching him like that?"

"Jealous 'cause I got there first?" The kind of smirk you wanted to wipe off with a right hook.

Vecchio slammed him against the wall.

"What the fuck are you saying, Kowalski? You calling me queer?"

"'Everybody falls in love with him'. Ain't you part of 'everybody'?" Ray pulled back a fist. "You hit me, Vecchio, you're gonna be licking the linoleum before you get out of here. That's no lie."

"Think you can take me, you skinny little shit?"

A big warm hand covered the fist that clutched at Vecchio's shirt. Ray looked up and found himself faced with the big-eyed Mountie look. Fraser was still Fraser, even in a hasty bedsheet toga.

"I think you're both capable of causing... a lot of damage, Ray."

~~~

**6) 9:57 PM**

"You look nice," Ray said. Then he did a double take and narrowed his eyes. "Real nice. Where are you going off to so late?"

"Jeeze, Ray, keep your shirt on. I'm going out. For drinks."

"With who?"

"With a man, Ray." She sighed a cloud of cigarette smoke; she was down to two a day. "My secret's out."

"No, I mean who? What kinda guy don't knock on the door? Why're you waiting for him on the porch, Frannie?"

She stubbed her cigarette out nervously.

"Frannie?"

"It's Guy Rankin. Ray--"

"What's that creep doing so much as laying _eyes_ on you, let alone taking you out on a date?"

"I know you don't like him, okay? I just didn't want a hassle. I'm a big girl now, Ray. I can go out with whoever I want."

"You're too good for that skunk. Why don't you let me fix you up with Gardino--"

"I've been on two dates with him already. Louis is never gonna get over Carla." She sighed, eyeing her new red patent leather heels. "Besides, you think he's a moron."

"Well he's not gonna win a Nobel prize or nothing, but he's a good guy. Dresses like a refugee from a plaid factory, but you could help him out with that."

"I don't wanna be a cop's wife, Ray. Bad enough I gotta be a cop's sister."

Ray froze.

"What are you saying, Frannie?" His voice was soft and angry, and Frannie ran a careful hand over her hair.

"Nothing, okay?" Headlights gilded her and she squinted into the driveway. "My date's here."

"Frannie... C'mon, why are you doing this? You don't even _like_ Guy Rankin. I heard you telling Maria he looked like The Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz."

"Yeah, so? There's more to Guy than looks."

"Yeah, like racketeering. You know he shakes down old ladies for their social security checks? The guy's scum, Frannie."

"Look, I don't care right now, okay? This is the first date I've had in two months. I'm not gonna marry the guy, Ray. Drinks, out. Maybe I'll meet somebody at the bar."

"Nice place to meet somebody," Ray sneered.

Guy honked the horn.

Frannie picked her way down the stairs. The strap was rubbing at her ankle, and the heels were very tall.

Before she got in Guy's car, she glanced back at the porch.

Ray looked at her for a long moment, his mouth tight, eyes narrowed in the halogen glare of Guy's headlights.

The he spun on his heel and went in the house, slamming the door behind him.

~~~

She slapped at his big bony hands, but he kept grabbing at her. She felt him sink one hand into her hair, and for the first time she realized that this was trouble. The big kind, the kind they made into movies on _Lifetime_. Another victim of the week.

"Let me _go_ , you creep!"

This wasn't happening. This didn't happen to Francesca Vecchio. Guy was gonna find out the hard way.

But Guy never let up, he was so tall, scary tall, and _strong_ , like he didn't even notice her struggling, and her back was pressed against the cold windows of Guy's long blue Oldsmobile and she brought her knee up hard and he was doubled over coughing and cursing and she heard the screen door creak and slam against the side of the house.

She felt Ray's hands close on her shoulder, and then he was smoothing the rucked up hair on the crown of her head.

"He hurt you?"

"He didn't get the chance."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm good, Ray. He, on the other hand, is gonna be singing soprano for about three weeks." She hoped her voice was only shaking in her imagination. She wanted to be tough. Like Wonder Woman or something.

There was nothing like a smile on Ray's face, and he patted her shoulder again.

"Get inside. Call this in."

Then he turned his whole body toward Guy sprawled out on the sidewalk and he rolled his shoulders.

Frannie felt another prickle of fear run spiny legs all the way down her spine, and she was in a whole new world of afraid.

"Ray, you want me to get your handcuffs?"

"I'll take care of it," and he sounded okay, normal even, but Frannie couldn't move.

Ray dragged Guy up to his feet like he was an empty suit.

"You touch my sister? You scare my little sister, Rankin? You're a real big man. You got what, 50 pounds on her? It's a good thing she can take care of herself, huh?

"Good thing for her, I mean. 'Cause even though you didn't get a chance to hurt her, I'm gonna rip your balls off and shove them down your fucking throat." Guy was the one rammed up against the car now, and his hands swung at the ends of his arms like the mittens Ma had used to clip to the sleeves of her snowsuit. "In fact, let's skip the dramatics and just get to the part where I'm gonna fucking kill you. How's that sound?"

And then Ray stopped talking, he just started... taking Guy apart. Pounding Guy, steady and tireless, he wasn't even breathing hard, and soon he was propping Guy up with one hand so he couldn't slide down and he just kept punching until she heard Guy start to gurgle.

Frannie started to worry about the neighbors, but then, this was Zuko's town, and nobody around here liked to see or say too much. Pop yelling, usually breaking things, Ma crying, and not once had a cop ever come by asking about it.

Oh my god, oh my god, that's a tooth, she thought, the gory little pebble gleaming in the streetlight.

She didn't realize she'd been screaming until later, when her voice was raspy and she was trying not to look at Huey while he took her statement.

"And then what happened, Miss Vecchio?"

Frannie kept her eyes in her lap and someone shoved a mug of her ma's hot chocolate in her line of sight. She recognized Gardino's gaudy fake Rolex. A gift from his wife.

"Um. You know. I guess Guy tried to get away or something. There was... there was a struggle. And then Ma called the cops." She shrugged, and took a tiny sip of the cocoa.

"Do you want us to get you a doctor?"

She was shaking her head, and she could hear Ray, his flat nasal voice, "--creep was resisting arrest, and that's all there is to it."

"No, that's okay. Just a little rattled." Another hot little curl of sweet cocoa and she managed a long, shaky breath.

She wouldn't look up and she could tell Huey didn't believe her for a minute, but there was the final murmur to her mother and in the end, only Guy was taken away in cuffs.

~~~

**7) 11:57 AM**

Ray's fingers twitched and he ran a hand over what was left of his hair. He had a sudden, intense craving for a cigarette, even though he hadn't smoked since he'd nicked a pack of his dad's Kool's in the seventh grade and puked in his mother's rose bushes.

He thought about flipping open his wallet and sending Kowalski to the corner store for a carton. Ray had taken to carrying a couple hundred bucks in twenties with him wherever he went these days. Langostini'd had a flunkey pay his bills; he never touched anybody he didn't have to.

"You into him?" What a fucking stupid thing to say. Pure junior high. He kept this up, he was gonna regress himself right back to nursery school.

Kowalski squinted at him, but made no other move.

In his mind, Ray counted out the pause of a long, slow drag on an invisible cigarette. The Langostini Pause. Making 'em wait for it always gave you the edge; let their own imaginations do the dirty work for you. No spoken threats, no way coercion charges can stick.

He'd had to pretend to quit smoking; palming Nicorette for Chiclets, being twice as nasty as the Bookman was known for, just to convince those gabrons that he was niccing out on doctor's orders. But he kept the pauses. Cigarettes had been just another tool in the Langoustini war chest. With the cigar clippers he'd never used on cigars, and the gold plated Zippo with the three-inch flame. The not-so-subtle art of intimidation.

"You love him, right?"

The guy looked surprised, but then it wasn't a question cops usually asked, let alone answered.

"I am talking English here, right? You speak American? Answer me. You in love with Fraser?"

Kowalski's shoulder's tensed and Ray threw up his hands.

"I'm not fagbashing you, Kowalski. It's a simple fucking question."

"Yeah." Sulky, and warning. Something about the set of his shoulders reminded Ray that, according to Frannie, the guy was a boxer.

"There's a lot of that going around," Ray sighed, leaning back against the rough bricks. He was probably going to ruin the jacket. Tear it to shit. But hell, why should it be any different from the rest of his life?

"What's it to you, Vecchio? You wanna, what, duke it out in a cage match or something?"

And he bounced a little on the balls of his feet, like he was already looking forward to it.

"Over what? Infringing on the Mountie? Not gonna happen. Tell me something: you fucking him?"

"What is this? I don't know what we're doing here. What are we doing?" And by the last word, all the fuck-you-motherfucker had leaked out, making the final question simple confusion.

"You don't know how to touch him."

Kowalski grabbed his jacket, seething, teeth bared.

"If you are fucking-- Are you _bragging_? I will eat your _head_ \--"

Ray gave him an ice cold 'you've been dead for ten minutes you just don't know it yet' stare.

Kowalski chilled. He didn't let go, but he didn't shake Ray again.

"I mean, you don't know how. You haven't even kissed him yet, have you?"

Slight shake of the head, a bruised look in those still-hostile eyes.

He uncurled Kowalski's hands from his jacket. "Watch the merchandise, _detective_."

Kowalski shook his head like he'd just had his skull bounced off a desk and backed off.

"You ever play hockey?"

" _What_?"

"It's not an essay question! Jesus. You ever. Play. Hockey?"

"Yeah, I played PeeWee. My mum signed me up, said she wanted me to get my, get my ya-yas out. That way I could smack the shit out of something, with. No property damage. But I ain't been on skates since I was 12."

"Get a pair," he said flatly. "And brush up on your figure 8's."

"What the hell are you talking about, Vecchio?"

"I'm talking about Mountie romance, genius. Practically the only time I ever heard the guy laugh he was on skates. Playing hockey." Kowalski couldn't seem to focus his eyes. "It could be worse," Ray said kindly. "Could be curling."

"Why... why are you telling me this?"

He ignored that.

"I spent more time on my ass than on the blades. I suck at skating. But jesus, you shoulda been there... heard him. Laughing." He smoothed the 'I'm remembering' smile off his face and locked eyeballs with Kowalski. "We cool, Kowalski?"

"We're cool. We're _frosty_."

"Whaddaya waitin' for? Go get your man."

Kowalski blinked at him.

"It's not that easy."

"Nothing's _easy_. Especially when it comes to Fraser. What, you some kind of pussy?" Ray taunted. "You don't think he's worth the extra effort?"

Kowalski rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hey. Vecchio. You really think I got a shot?"

"What am I, your guidance counselor?"

"Seriously? I have no idea." He paused, flicking a look at Ray under his lashes. "You love him, too?"

That didn't deserve an answer.

"I'm done talking to you now."

Kowalski nodded, took a deep breath, almost said something, then spun on his heel, hunched up his shoulders and started walking away like a guy who had someplace he had to be an hour ago.

Ray was just grateful that Kowalski hadn't done anything stupid.

Like thank him.

~~~

**8) 11:57 PM**

Fourth date, and he risked a hand up her swirly black skirt. Thigh highs and a strip of silk so skimpy he could have torn it like a spider web.

He made a low, alarmed sound, and pulled away from Ange's sucking kisses.

"What the fuck are you _wearing_? It's 20 degrees outside!"

Ange shook her hair out of her eyes, smirked at him.

"But we're _inside_..." her hands slipped back into his front pockets and he yanked them out again.

"Back seat," he said in a strangled murmur. Ange twinkled at him.

"Ray, do I look like the kinda girl who does it in the back seat of a Buick?"

"Back seat back seat, now now now!" Ray was scrambling out of his jacket and Ange laughed and climbed almost gracefully into the back seat.

"Holy jesus," Ray muttered as he hitched a thumb under the scrap of fabric right into the sweet wet heat of her.

He didn't bother to tug her panties down, just licked right past them, lapping past the rough little curls, right down deep. He could hear her heavy crooning breaths, feel the muscles in her smooth thighs twitch against his hands. Fucking _heaven_ , right here in this Buick LeSabre.

He felt her silky little spasm, the wet clutch of her, and when she bucked, he lifted his head, still licking his lips, to watch her face.

Her hair was spread all over the seat, and her face was glowy in the orange streetlight and her mouth was puffy and they'd licked off all her lipstick and she was so goddamned beautiful he was _paralyzed_.

She handed him a condom and he stared at it like he'd never seen one before.

He ran a hand over his hair and said, "Christ, Ange."

She laughed a little, her chest heaving, and he wondered if her bra was made of the same stuff her panties were.

"You gonna fuck me, Ray, or you gonna take the holy orders?"

He fumbled with the condom, nearly dropped it he was so shaky, and then... sweet mother of heaven, oh, Ange, Ange...

She didn't answer; she was riding him and biting her soft lower lip, her eyebrows tight with concentration. Her arms were stretched out over her head, hands pressing against the door so Ray wouldn't bang her head against it with every stroke. When she came again, Ray saw spots before his eyes, and then fell forward on one hand, falling right off the same cliff three steps behind her.


End file.
